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Plot Information for Rihland

A Black Jewel has obliterated the longstanding Eyrien rulership of the Territory. As the Rihlanders begin to reclaim their homeland they do so under the stern gaze of their "savior". Three separate peoples struggle to both claim their own identities and become a unified nation, but old hatreds are difficult to shed.

The moot had gone well, save for a few ne’re-do-wellers intent on ruining everyone else's fun. It was no surprise to her that they had mostly been Eyriens or Eyrien sympathizers. For a team unaccustomed to losing, they didn't do it gracefully. Even the Reckoners no doubt in attendance, knew better than to expose themselves on a night dedicated to reunification. To some the Moot with a half Eyrien head was a farce, an insult to Rihlander customs, for others like Evony it meant a turning point. Magnivar Ramius was intent on making a spectacle of himself. It was a cry for attention, a child throwing a tantrum. It had taken some convincing to steer Odinar away from his initial impulse to put his fist through the other Eyrien’s attractive face. It was after all his attitude that stunk.

She had managed to convince him that any action on his part was just a waste and contrary to his father’s vision for the night. At least in not so many words.

Odinar’s mood hadn't improved, he seemed to settle into a comfortable state somewhere between mild annoyance and intense aggravation. If his resting bitch face hadn't been so attractive, she might have thought twice about tempting him. The night was young, shed seen her family for the first time in months, the stars were bright and the night air was cool. It reminded her of happier times. Her antisocial companion was attractive and she could have thought of a handful of ways the night could have ended worse.

Only she didn't imagine how much worse.

"Im curious, how do you lie on your back with those wings? You have some sort of brace?" she had asked, the warm taste of mead lingering on her lips.

"I don't. I sleep on my stomach. It's more comfortable. Or on my side, though it's less comfortable. Lying on my back isn't something I like. Not for a long time, anyway." Odinar responded methodically, which made her curious. Was he always so regimented?

"Its good to try new things. Breaks up the monotony" sipping her drink and glanced at the crowd. Bodies paired together in polite conversation or hushed consternation. With this crowd one couldn't be too sure. "Ive never ridden an Eyrien before. We could both make new discoveries."

"How many men have you ridden, Malakay?" Now that was an impertinent question. She should have been insulted, only she chopped it up to him being bad at this whole flirting thing.

"Enough. How many women have you mounted, Odinar? How many have you left wanting?" Smirking, her petite shoulders shook with the hint of a soundless chuckle. Vanishing her drink to a nearby tray and turned to face the tall Warlord Prince, her head cocking softly to one side. Though her features were often considered innocent, they lent to an almost unsettling seductive quality to the Black Widow "The answer to that is not me. We could stay and you can continue to look at me that way, and I can continue to pretend I dont notice, or you could have my scent spilled all over your desk so every time you sit there, you can be reminded of how sweet I tasted when you fucked me." Pinching the corner of her supple lip she considered the idea thoughtfully before turning back to face in the same direction he was.

“There’s just one problem with your idea. What if I’d rather have your scent all over my sheets first? My desk is for work.” He took the bait.

“Lets see where the negotiations take us then.”

He’d taken her home, at least that had been the intention. What they found instead was a smoldering carcass on the side of the mountain. Ebon Varos’s moaned in agony, its beautiful windows scattered along the grand path like millions of tiny reflective tears.

No, it wasn't the kind of ending she had expected, but a chapter had certainly been turned.

Adalwolfa had arrived first and seen first hand what was left of the Rihlander’s who tended to the massive fortress scattered across the ground and walls. They walked in silence, stepping respectfully around the dead, surveying the damage. The Widow’s blood boiled until by the time she reached her own enkindled rooms she could feel the rage well up so high and bright it was all she could see. Many of her things were destroyed, her laboratory, decimated, the webs used to protect her most precious knickknacks held at least. All but one, a flask warped from the heat.

All of that was secondary to the pain she felt for the Rihlander’s left to warm the hearth. Odinar would not be consoled, though she had been surprised by how deliberately he had carried himself. There was talk of who had committed such a cowardly act, names spread, theories filled the halls in a fog of whispers. Poor Evony was shattered, and for a moment she felt so much sympathy for the Witch.

As the week passed, so did the memory of the moot. Now all that they did and didn't speak about was the fire. Malakay had worked for days helping to move the dead, and wipe the walls clean of stains. There were shadows on the walls, haunting images of the last moments of someone life. The outline of their body against the stone wall as they turned to run, their final moments trapped in time.

Odinar put them to work, which she was grateful for. It seemed she had seen more of him in that week than ever before when he wasn't patrolling. That was his time to be alone with his thoughts. They functioned like a unit, wordless unless there was something that needed to be said. The rhythm became natural, seeking out weak points, they moved through the halls of Ebon Varos until she had them set to memory. Her webs were spun while he barked assignments to his men. They didn't have to talk, not when they were both thinking the same thing. Whoever did this had to pay.

A week later she rapped softly on his office door. Three taps, two consecutive and one stalled. The office had mostly been cleaned, a new desk delivered though the damage had been so severe one might think it was a deliberate message to the Warlord Prince. Malakay had sought out the memories lost within the Twisted Kingdom, but all she heard were their screams.

“Odinar.” she stepped in once she heard his voice. Her hair was pulled back in playful ponytail. Instead of off the shoulder woolen sweaters she wore a flowy wine colored skirt and a black lace v-neck top . Around her wrist was a simple gold bangle and a pair of comfortable sandals.. “Good, you're here. I have some ideas and I've arranged for lunch to be brought. If I dont get something to eat soon Ill go crazy.” Spinning all day had left her famished, and any irritation she might have felt would be soothed over by a good meal. Lifting her eyes to him her lip curled into a thoughtful smirk. For Malakay that was as good as a grin. “I was looking at the maps you provided for the spires as well as the temple. I know that is your father’s spot, but unless he plans to station there, the ruin is a prime point of access. Id like to discuss keeping it that way, at the very least, pretending we are keeping it that way.” she paused, and looked at him for a moment. They had focused so much on putting the house to rights that she hadnt asked him. “Are you doing any better?”

The past week since the attack found that thought traveling through the Master of the Guard’s mind at least twice daily. When reviewed the reports of the dead, the names saddened him to read. Evony had made a detail accounting of all the damage done to Ebon Varos itself, damage that the Hearth Witch worked to set right through her heartbreak. Lady Sauer assisted her and Odinar was grateful for the Priestess’s calming influence. He was glad that the members of the Court were at the moot during the attack, but Odinar wished he’d been able to confront the ones responsible for this tragedy.

I should have been here.

One of them dared to use fire, his element, in their attack. The move was a brazen one. Had these fools possessed the courage to attack at any other time, he might have found grudging respect in the desire to antagonize the Black. Now he just wanted to find them and kill every last one of them to avenge the innocent people they’d murdered.

I should have been here.

Odinar read each report in detail, committing the facts to memory. If Father asked him to report, Odinar would not struggle to recall a single fact. When he met the families of the dead, he would not stumble in recalling a name or the duties that they did in service of Ebon Varos. His father would not stumble or struggle. Kalvar Elbremov was a military man and a Price, accustomed to sorting and recalling details at a whim. This Eyrien Rebellion had attacked his home and shattered the peace that he’d fought to give to Rihland. Odinar knew that it would happen someday, but he had not expected it so soon. Eyriens had no concept of peace. They were unsatisfied with life unless they were subjugated someone or making war with others.

His sources were searching for information even now, looking for any clue as to the whereabouts of the ones responsible for this attack.

The knock on the door caused him to look up from his paperwork. His mood darkened and he stared at the door as though it might open of its own accord and show him who was on the other side. He hoped it wasn’t Evony trying to clean his office again. He didn’t want his office clean. He wanted the smell of blood scoured from the halls. He wanted safety for the Rihlanders and the Glacians who were placing their faith in them. He wanted every single member of the Eyrien Rebellion dead and turned to ash that he could scatter to the winds. He didn’t want company.

But he also didn’t have a choice.

“Enter.” he said.

Malakay stepped into the office. Odinar’s gaze sharpened on the small Rihlander woman and recalled their discussion from a week prior. They’d both been ready to come back to Ebon Varos and test out their theories on who would find more comfort in being on top of the other. His anger didn’t subside but Warlord Prince was turned his chair in her direction, his wings flexing while he watched her. Her neck was a slim thing, easily captured in one of his powerful hands. The Black Widow likely had ways to defend herself but she would submit if he demanded it. She said his name and Odinar bristled, briefly, at the familiarity. He leaned heavily on Protocol to inform his actions so it rankled him when others did not.

“Lady Malakay.” he said in his deep voice, the two words as much a greeting as a recognition of who she was.

“Yes, I do have some ideas. I’ll act as your Escort today while we address upgrades to the defenses.” he said, leaning forward in his chair and steepling his fingers before resting his chin atop them. He hadn’t yet blinked or even averted his gaze from her flesh. She’d entered his office, his territory, so she could deal with it if she had an issue with the way he watched her.

“Are you doing any better?”

The question was so loaded that he would have laughed any other time. He finally looked down at his desk, taking his eyes off her for the first time since she walked in.

“I’m fine, Lady Malakay. After all, I’m alive. There are a number of people who can’t say the same.” he said grimly.

Odinar’s voice cut through the thick door like a hot knife through butter. His office was not large, giving him just enough room to stretch his wings if needed without knocking over any furniture. The scent of him was potent, his anger was the top note, grief and guilt were a bare undertone. She said his name and he stiffened. She had wondered why, even after so many months that he refused to allow even the slightest familiarity. Flirtations during the moot aside, they had worked well together, spent hours in each others company even if not socially.

The hope of unity was dashed by the rampage of another and Odinar had been most affected, save for his father. As her time in Ebon Varos was short compared to others, she had not formed such deep connections with the staff that had stayed behind to care for the fortress. It was a place where they would be safe, they weren’t, and no one took that more seriously than the Master of the Guard.

“That would be appreciated.” Her head tilted, studying him with deep amber eyes. Malakay wasn’t sure that he would grant her an honest answer and she was not surprised when he brushed the truth away. Odinar Elbramov was anything but better, he hadn’t allowed himself to grieve. She wondered if he placed blame on himself than thought it silly a thought. Of course, he did. Still, it didn’t keep his scent from shifting to something more robust and heady. It was often that way with Warlord Prince's. The well of their passions ran deep. Rage, fear, lust, all of it just kindling.

“No.” she answered honestly as if in itself it proved a point. “It's been difficult to sleep. My mind tends to wander into dark spaces if I allow it. I didn’t know many of them, not as you and your father did, but their faces were becoming familiar to me. It is strange not seeing them.” Malakay moved behind the chair directly across from his desk and watched the way his wings twitched and shifted before seeking out his gaze again. Her hands resting on its back. “We are not strangers to loss or violence, and creatures like us don’t suffer trespassers well.” Her plans included creating a trap to siphon any who would dare attack by giving them a tempting but not so obvious point of entry. “I also know it helps me to work. Of all the distractions it’s the safest.” She smiled at him softly, nose buttoning between her cheeks.

“Would you like to eat first and then talk shop?” Motioning with a hand she requested to sit. Once Odinar accepted, she shifted, taking a step to the side and rolling her hip into the seat, her legs crossing under the thin burgundy fabric of her skirts.

Odinar gestured to the west, granting her permission to sit. He was surprised when she admitted that it was hard for her to sleep. His own rest was troubled, but that wasn’t a problem that he cared to share with anyone. Still, a Black Widow admitting to vulnerability was a new thing for him to see. Shiori rarely discussed her deeper thoughts with him. He supposed it was well enough. Odinar wasn’t given much to deep thinking these days.

Not unless it was about all the ways he planned to make the Eyriens pay for their crimes.

“I can eat.” Odinar said. Well, of course he could. He wore the Red. Everyone could eat unless they chose otherwise. Malakay made him feel unsure of himself, a sensation that Odinar was not accustomed to or comfortable with. He was the Master of the Guard, so it was right and natural that others feared him. But Malakay made him nervous with her easy smiles and her kindness. He couldn’t tell if this was a game that they were playing or something different.

“You’re...right, though, about losses and trespassers. I don’t suffer them well. Outsiders came to my home, this place, and murdered people that I’ve known for years. People keep telling me not to and myself. I already blame the Eyrien bastards who killled them. But if I’d been up here instead of…”

He trailed off. Finishing that sentence wouldn’t be wise in present company.

“I should have been here to fight for them. They deserved better. With your help, I’ll see that it doesn’t happen again.” Odinar said, drumming his fingers in the desk. He stood, abruptly, walked past the desk. He didn’t want to sit anymore. Standing made more sense and it let him flex his wings, which he did now. But whatever measured walk he’d started upon soon devolved into pacing back and forth like a caged tiger. He hadn’t forgotten that Malakay was there, but he preferred to meet the kitchen staff who brought the food when they arrived. Putting himself between Malakay and the door allowed exposed her to less danger.

“You look good.” he said, realizing that he hadn’t commented on her dress. The color brought out her eyes. Did she wear it for good luck? Or because it would be easiest to work in? The question would remain on his mind while they waited for the food to arrive.

“I usually don’t eat here. My younger sister asked me not go. She didn’t want to remain in my office all day.” Odinar said, by way of conversation.

“How is your family?” he asked, looking for a reason, any reason, to stop talking and let her speak.

If Malakay could scent his discomfort she gave no indication of it. Odinar was an interesting character. She had always felt most comfortable around Warlord Prince’s. Perhaps it was due to her nature as a Black Widow, facing the unknown or the volatility of another was more her speed. Tormund had been that way, though his personality was all smiles, he was still a creature of violence within. Odinar didn’t outright reject her presence but he kept her at arms length, so there she stood. Malakay didn’t push herself on the Warlord Prince like some others, she had no desire to change him but to allow him to become naturally aware and accepting of her presence if he chose.

“You would have killed the trespassers without quarter or mercy. Or died trying.” Something in her tone might have indicated that she agreed. Whoever had committed such a cowardly assault on Ebon Varos clearly chose his timing well. This was a message of resistance to Kalvar. It was as good as a declaration of war. Everything depended on how the ruler reacted. He had the power of the Black, he could take the culprits to task and massacre each one. Perhaps that was even the plan, to martyr themselves in the eyes of the Eyriens. To make a monster of Kalvar to the Rihlanders.

The last thing Odinar wanted to hear was that there was nothing he could have done to stop it. Even if it was true. If she was more skilled at traversing the Twisted Kingdom she might have seen it coming, but Malakay would not allow guilt into her heart for the things she could not control. “We will find them and your father will deal with them properly. Or whats left of them anyways. It wouldn’t be very wise of them to come back here though, but just in case they have spies, we will be ready. “ It was exactly why she had chosen to discuss her plans only with Odinar. As the Master of the Guard he could decide who would be aware of the webs. “There is nothing we can do now, except to prepare.” Her eyes followed him as he paced, his black leathery wings trailing behind him like a living cloak. He was agitated and she was very aware of how small his offices were and how dangerous it was to be locked in with a Warlord Prince in this state.

“Oh this old thing.” She smirked, caught by surprise by his compliment she knew it was genuine. Odinar didn’t mince words or say things he didn’t mean. “Thank you. Id say you do too but you look tense.” Handsome, but clearly wound up. “Would you rather go somewhere else? We can have it delivered anywhere. Do you often lunch with your sister? I haven’t met her yet.” If she was anything like Kalvar or most of his sons he wasn’t much of a conversationalist.

“They are well, a bit confused by why I left the moot in such a rush, but I thought better of concerning them.” After all the reasons for her leaving did not include an attack, but Odinar himself. The carnage was unexpected. “I’ve asked them to keep their ears to the ground. My father has friends from the old Court, and if he finds out anything he will let me know. Other than that they are preparing for Spring harvest. It’s the busiest time in the farm. Time permitting Ill go back for a week or so to help.” She considered. “In the house, not in the fields, that shit is terrible, grueling work. I gave that up long ago. I wasnt made to hold a scythe, not when it towers over me.” She chuckled softly.

There was a knock at the door. An anxious maid awaited outside with a cart filled with food and drink. “Prince Elbremov, Should I come in and serve?” she asked more because it was polite and proper and less because of any inclination to do just that.

Odinar nodded at Malakay’s sentiment that he would have killed the trespassers, even at the cost of his life. Ebon Varos was his father’s home. It was his home and had been for centuries before his father had taken it over. Odinar knew these halls and walls nearly better than he’d known the home that his father and mother shared in his youth. Had he been here, he would have seen to the safety of the staff before killing every last one of the Eyriens who dared trespass in this place. They would never harm this place or its people again. Odinar vowed that shortly after he’d seen the dead.

He was glad that Malakay felt the same way. Unlike most Rihlanders, she didn’t blame his father for everything under the sun.

“No, it’s okay. We can stay here. The staff knows that they can find me here. I prefer it that way.” he said, pausing to consider his next words. His interactions with the Court Seer were formal affairs, but he still thought of that night just a week ago, when their discussion had been decidedly not professional. He thought her family had been there among the revelers at the moot. Would they have been furious at her for consorting with an Eyrien? He still wondered how she could sit here with him without the fear he found so customary in others. Glacians practically threw themselves out of his path when he came around. Odinar enjoyed putting people off their game and out of their element, but he wasn’t one for inducing terror on the helpless.

“I wasn’t much of a farmer, either. My father has the patience and temperament for it, I think Same with my brother, Andrei. I enjoy eating, but field work isn’t part of my skill set, either.” he said, a rueful smile tugging at his lips. He did not like being unable to do something. He hated admitting it even more.

He decided that this was not the place to throw in a jest about her height and kept his mouth closed for a moment. Tiny or not, Malakay was still a Black Widow. Her playful mood could turn on a dime and ruin him.

The knock at the door spared him from asking an awkward question. He gestured toward the door and it opened to find the maid at the door.

“Thank you. Please leave it there. I’ll take care of it.” Odinar said. The maid looked stunned. Rather than question her good fortune, she bowed once and quickly departed. Odinar walked over to the door and brought the cart inside. Everything smelled wonderful and he wondered how long Evony worked on this when she realized where it was going. It made no difference. Odinar was hungry and he was certain that Malakay was, too.

“Please, have a seat. I’ll serve.” Odinar said, moving to his desk and clear a bit more space. The desk was practically empty, but the few small keepsakes that dotted the desk were put away for later. He set the food between them, quickly and quietly, and made sure the door was locked so that they would not be disturbed. The last thing he needed was someone barging in with something that mattered only to them.

“I realize that I know very little about you, Lady Malakay, outside of your caste and a bit about your family. What else should I know about you to work with you effectively?” Odinar asked. The question was too formal, too stiff, but he’d already asked. He couldn’t take it back.